Pour Moi
-
Upload
wendy-windust -
Category
Documents
-
view
212 -
download
0
description
Transcript of Pour Moi
Pour Moi A must read, a riveting story by one of the
top authors today,Iga Lis.” – Paris Now
For Pola –
May your inconveniences
no longer linger in my life
Hoofing it down the graphite stairs of the Paris Metro,I felt the wind rushing
through my sandy hair. It was held from the back by a turquoise clip. My
sneakers brushed their soles against the solid rock. The footing made an irritating
sound. I felt the gloomy faces of Parisians glazing at mine. I was on the verge of
collapsing after the exhausting 15k walk through the charming streets of Paris
yesterday. I felt my eyelids dropping down as if s heavy rocks would be placed
on top of them. Our plan for today was to visit La Basilique du Sacre Coeur,
Centre Georges-Pompidou and Musee d’Orsay. The destination as of now was
the basilique.
My sister Pola, and dad briskly skipped in front of me, glancing back every
now and then to see if I was keeping up. After buying the tickets, we stepped
into an oval tunnel. French classical music echoed between the walls. When we
got out of the “tube”, we exited onto the right and sat down on orange, plastic
seats. Chopin still faintly played in the back. The “Polish” vibe ran through me.
When we settled down on the seats, I pulled out my iPhone from the
„petite‟ skirt pocket and clicked the settings button to search for WiFI. I thought
deeply biting my lower lip. There was no signal, so I stood up and paused next to
a Cafe. I jerked the iphone up so it would catch the signal, and like salvation
there it was right on my screen: “Stop By Cafe Free Public WiFi”. I stole a glance
to the left to see my dad and sister who still, patiently sat on the chairs
hypnotized, staring at the train tracks. I loaded my Instagram to see the blue bar
appearing which indicated that a photo was about to load. The bar was pulled
to the middle. I felt my hair being rushed by wind. I looked up just in time to hear
the alarming hiss of the subway.
“Iga, rush down here right now!” My dad commanded with irritation in his
voice, and an unpleasant look that I knew just so perfectly. He was already
standing. He let out a bubble of air, puffing his cheeks out, and tapping his
hands against his jeans in irritation.
“Just one minute dad, I‟ll be right there!” I mumbled, putting my hand
forward and shaking it like a rattle to motion: I‟ll be right there! Actually, I was still
captivated by the screen.
“Iga, don‟t let dad repeat himself!” my selfish sister mocked, standing
behind dad with her hand on her hip. She smiled her most sarcastic smile, and
then grit her teeth together. The most dishonest, fake emotion I had ever seen.
What a selfish creature. I grinned at her in disbelief. She would do anything to
make our parents stand on her side.
The train harshly stopped, letting out a squeal. The glass doors opened
letting out an anthill of people to sprint down. I looked down at my screen to
see all Instagram pictures loaded. I scrolled down and patiently examined all of
the images my followers recently posted. I looked up to see the glass doors
closing on my families displeased faces. They looked at me through the glass in
disbelief and anger.
I was left alone. My world blackened, i couldn‟t let a word out of myself. It
felt as if someone stuffed chunks of paper into my throat. Petite fille se retrouve
seule, as the French would say. That meant I was left alone.. The life in front of
me played like movie on fast forward, but I stood still like a paused scene. An
anxiety attack! I thought to myself. My face stiffened, as I let out of myself a serie
of deep breaths. I closed my eyes tightly, my left hands fingers digging into my
skin, my right hand, still gripping onto my phone with the loaded instagram
page. My eyes were damp, the tears were overflowing. I felt like screaming my
lungs out. Before I could collect myself, like de ja vu there the subway was in
front of me, the whistle it let out when stopping, piercing through my sensitive
ears.
Pulling my shoulders up, I confidently stepped into the transport. My hand
reached up, grabbing the plastic handle. The hooting sound repeated, so the
doors once again rapidly closed. As it departed, the public flopped forward,
moved by the forceful start. It turned, and twisted like a river current. After a
minute, from the pitch black, lights appeared, litting up the walls of graffiti. We
evacuated from the tunnel and settled in the subway stop. I hopped out and
just at the yellow “warning” line stopped. I glanced left and right losing my
confidence again. A hand touched my shoulder. I turned back. Oh heck no.
Was this the familiar and gentle hand of my dad, a filthy hand of a stalker, or a
delicate palm of an old person wanting to assist me? As I turned around, I could
feel my body being pulled into a huge hug. Dad‟s big hand petted my hair. As I
pulled back, I could see the worried, yet thankful expression of dad.
“Thank god you‟re here! Pola and I were scared to the bits! Never do
anything like this again,” from a warm smile, his expression transformed into a
solemn look.
“As adults, we taught you a lesson. Maybe your gunna‟ learn when to
listen to wiser people,” she snapped.
“You‟re fifteen?” I questioned with hesitation.
“Same thing. So much smarter than you. Daddy, let‟s go I‟m hungry!” she
stomped.
Here we go again. I sighed.
If you are a drudge, try getting through, do something spectacular and
breathtaking! Stand up, look ahead, take a risk and remember: don’t let
anything stop you. Who knows, maybe peoples outlook on you will change.
Although my sister didn‟t acknowledge the fact that I have accomplished
something mind-blowing,I felt that my life was utterly accomplished. I was the
youngest sister, but definitely the bravest one. The most important thing in life is
to feel good with yourself. Isn‟t that what it‟s all about? Everything else will
come naturally.
“It pulls you in, and never
let’s go.” – New York Times
I was left alone. My world
blackened, i couldn’t let a word
out of myself. It felt as if
someone stuffed chunks of paper
into my throat.
About the author: A successful young
adult lived and
raised in Warsaw,
now one of the top
50 most successful
authors in Europe.